EL CABAELLERO DE LOS CINCO MESQUITES

I don't know where this gentleman was born and I'm not sure of his name, but beside his small frame house in the country along Military Highway grew five mesquites, from which he took his nickname. He was of a tranquil and serene nature and seldom uttered a word. He had no aspirations of fame nor fortune.

He was fond of learning languages without worrying about the correct conjugations. When he came across an expression in Spanish or Portuguese or French or Italian that amused him, he would be so diverted that he would forget to eat.

By temperament he liked wine and marijuana, but he survived on a small pension that limited his extravagances. Cognizant of his limited resources, his friends would invite him to their homes for a bottle and a joint.

He never drank without finishing the last drop and he was always good for the final hit. He would return to his place drunk and high, but he had little concern about tomorrow. He had no responsibilities and could sleep all day should he so desire.

He lived alone in his wooden abode badly in need of multiple repairs, but he delighted in the sounds of the rain dripping through the roof. He dressed in faded shirts and khakis and wore no underwear nor socks. Slipping quickly into his two garments and sliding his feet into a pair of sandals, he never altered his attire regardless of the occasion.

He ate little, tortillas with beans, avocados and onions his daily meal. He would filled his one glass with tap water. There was not an ounce of fat on him. He walked everywhere and expressed little want for modern conveniences.

He wrote poems to wile away the hours. He never feared revealing his innermost thoughts and could care less if his few readers praised or criticized him. He wasn't seeking approval. He merely felt the need to create and the product rendered him sufficient pleasure.

Oblivious to the opinions of others and washing his hands of the events unfolding around him, he went about his days in this manner until one evening they found him dead in his chair with his notebook on his lap and his pen on the floor.